


broadswords and rune wards

by sshomoerotica



Series: Warcraft Drabbles [1]
Category: Warcraft (2016), World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen, Spoilers, Spoilers for Warcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 04:25:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7251961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sshomoerotica/pseuds/sshomoerotica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I don't -- we don't meet many warriors within Dalaran."</p><p>"By the Light." Lothar grins, shit-eating; his words have a warm teasing tone. "You <i>are</i> a sheltered bastard, aren't you?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	broadswords and rune wards

**Author's Note:**

> Playing fast and loose with lore, since I haven't ever played the original Warcraft games, but I have played World of Warcraft since Vanilla! Plus, this movie kinda messed around with lore anyway, so. 
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> These first few are all character study think-y kinda stuff. But these things will probably get more explicitly gay. Eventually.

 

 

 

 

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"I don't -- we don't meet many warriors within Dalaran."

"By the Light." Lothar grins, shit-eating; his words have a warm teasing tone. "You _are_ a sheltered bastard, aren't you?"

"Not by choice." Khadgar mutters, tracing another protective rune into the dirt with a stick. The rest of the men are finishing setting up camp, and Khadgar can smell whatever they're cooking for supper. Medivh is off at the outer perimeters of the camp, making his own wards. They have no idea what they'll find out in these woods; rather safe than sorry. "Besides, the Kirin Tor have no need for warriors or weapons."

"Sounds idyllic." Lothar grunts, and he swings again. Khadgar feels rather young beside Lothar and his men - not to mention Medivh. But watching Lothar practice, he feels a bit less alone. Khadgar has never been very good at offensive spells, nor having to spellcast quickly in a dangerous situation, but even casting these wards across the ground makes him feel better. Out here, facing the prospect of an unknown enemy with the looming threat of fel magic - Khadgar feels as if every inch of his body is tight with anticipation. He and Lothar are together in this. Lothar may be more experienced in war and fighting, but neither of them knows what is coming. Lothar is no more prepared for whatever enemy they face than Khadgar is, for all his swings of his sword.

Magic and weaponry are not so different. But the arcane, even when one is well-versed in it, has almost a mind of its own. One must be stronger than it, smarter, and it isn't ever truly easy. For warriors, a sword becomes known. The movements become like memories, swift and done without thought. Over time, it becomes easier, more fluid. Khadgar finds himself envious of it. Magic, however, always requires concentration, focus; oftentimes it drains the energy of the user. Even for mages so grand as Medivh, there is always a chance of spells going awry. There is no room for error. As a warrior, there is always room for adaptation, malleability; a change in the plan - often that kind of quick thinking can mean the difference between life and death on the battlefield.

Lothar's blade makes a gleaming arc as he thrusts, spins, cuts a thin line into the bark of a nearby tree. The metal catches the light and the sound of the blade through the air is a soft, unassuming whistle.

When first he saw the swords in the castle armory, Khadgar hadn't given a thought to how heavy they were. They looked so beautiful, so ornate. It was easy to forget the death and pain they wrought. Easier still to forget how truly heavy they are. When he'd made to heft one it had been comical - how he initially stumbled under the weight. Even Medivh's staff was heavier than he expected the first time he went to carry it.

In the hands of Lothar, or any of the other warriors with them, the sword looks as light as a feather. Lothar moves so quickly with it; the sword is an extension of himself that moves with his body effortlessly, fully in his control. He is fluid. He bobs and weaves and his sword follows, elegant and deadly. He's not wearing all his armor, but what he does have on is catching the fading light; the metal flashes in blinding bursts. He's been full of a sort of restless energy since they started this campaign into the mountains, as if he's hoping for something to fight. His hair is wild and there's a sheen of sweat across his forehead, but he's smiling with a faint air of wildness to him, chest heaving and eyes bright.

Khadgar finishes the final rune. Each of them glows faintly blue for a second before fading into invisibility. He stands and wipes the dust from his palms. "Well," he concedes with a shrug, "There are certainly times when a dagger could prove more useful than a spell."

He thinks immediately of his and Lothar's first meeting - of how he became helpless the minute Lothar clamped his palm across Khadgar's mouth. How powerless and weak he felt; how useless he was without a spell at the ready. What a friend a good sharp blade would have been then. Although, in Khadgar's hand it would be just as likely to wound himself as his enemy.

Lothar scoffs on a breathy exhale, lips quirking. Khadgar likes to imagine he's thinking the same thing.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come talk to me about these two - or the whole movie, or anything else! - either at my WoW-centric blog (beastheals) or my more all-over fandom gay blog (sshomoerotica) over on Tumblr!


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